History
by TheVerbalThing ComesAndGoes
Summary: "It's a basic truth of the human condition, that everybody lies. The only variable is about what." Five times House lied to Cuddy, and one time he didn't.


History

Summary: "It's a basic truth of the human condition, that everybody lies. The only variable is about what." Five times House lied to Cuddy, and one time he didn't.

Setting: before and after _The Itch_

Disclaimer: summary is from a season 1 episode _Three Stories_; some dialogue borrowed from the show. _  
_

**A/N**: the quotes used that are actually from the show aren't necessarily in chronological order. when I started writing this, for some reason it came out in past tense, which I don't ordinarily use, so apologies if there's any...weirdness (and let me know if there is). happy reading, all.

* * *

_"Now history is a pack of lies, as any fool can tell."_

- A Tale They Won't Believe

i.

_'I'll call.'_

The first lie wasn't premeditated. It wasn't well thought out, and it certainly wasn't planned.

(He is well aware of what she thinks _now _but he certainly had every intention of keeping his promise _then._)_  
_

"I'll call," he said, rubbing the scruff of his five o-clock shadow against the bare skin of her back. She had a class at one, so she was kicking him out. If it wasn't for that, he still doesn't know if he would have stayed or left on his own merit. She seemed to relax until she realized what, exactly, he was promising. She frowned, gray eyes wide, unsuspecting a declaration of such finality. "I don't expect for you to-"

They were young; he was a brilliant genius, already a legend on campus in his own right and she was the was the (even younger) overly ambitious undergrad who, while impressive, still had a ways to go. They both had separate plans for their futures, neither of them including getting snagged too soon by a serious relationship.

But in that moment, with her body pressed against his, smelling of musk and lingering perfume from the night before, he saw a possibility. He pressed his lips against hers, felt her smile and knew that most of her protest was simply for show.

"I know. I'll call," he insisted again.

(That was the first lie.)

ii.

_'Anytime you want to stop kissing, I'm there for you.'  
_

(The second lie came after she lost 'Joy'.)

It was one of those rare moments that Cuddy was able to catch him off guard, and it was late, though not so late that his sleep had been interrupted, but just enough for him to wonder why he's opened the door to find Cuddy standing on his step.

"Did you—" she paused, took a breath, and raised her head to look him in the eyes. "Were you at my house earlier tonight?"

"No," he answered, far too quickly for her to possibly believe him. (He didn't want to think about that moment where he saw her through her window, peacefully calm and uninterrupted and sane and stable without his interference, any longer than he had to.) "Why would I—"

"Why are you lying?"

"I'm not."

"Unless you're hiding something. What are you hiding?"

"I'm _not_."

She tilted her head, eying him for a moment, saying nothing before seeming to reach her own foregone conclusion. She was stepping forward across his doorway before he could think to react properly, his hands falling instinctively to her waist as she gripped the sides of his face, pulling his mouth towards hers. The kiss was searching, oddly similar to the one they shared after she lost Joy, and yet couldn't have been more different. His hand slid further down her back, until he was cupping her butt, and just as he felt her tongue against his, she was pulling away.

He didn't know what to say.

"Are you going to let me in or just stand there, staring at me?"

"This doesn't necessarily mean—"

"House, shut up for once."

(He let her in. She stayed the night.)

iii.

_'This is the only me you get.'_

(The third lie, fueled by wounded pride, was concocted in the dusk of the morning, when he reached over after having fallen asleep with her beside him only to find her gone the next morning.)

"You left early this morning."

He kept his voice low, and his mouth was closer to her ear than probably appropriate but he knew she appreciated that, for once, he was trying to be discreet.

Cuddy returned the next comment without turning around to face him. "…Wasn't aware that you wanted me to stay."

"I didn't." Without thinking about the implication or any outsider's interpretation, he rested his hand on her back, palm tingling eerily from the contact and warmth of her skin.

"You sure about that?" She turned to face him, and his hand dropped back to his side, like he had never made the effort to reach out to her at all.

"Absolutely."

iv.

_'This isn't going to work.'_

(The fourth lie was inspired, mostly, by worry.)

There was blood on her walls and there she stood in front of him, questioning him about their "relationship". It was an odd juxtaposition, and for a moment, it nearly baffled him into speechlessness.

_We don't need a definition_, he wanted to tell her, _We aren't the status quo. We are what we are_. But that isn't enough—he knew that—not for her, not anymore. Though he's not sure if it ever was, if that was something he only told himself to ease the guilt of laying claim to her but never actually making her his.

"...You're suggesting that you screwed up because of a non-relationship with me. I don't know how I can help you. Because the only change from a non-relationship is...

"Are you saying you _want_ a relationship?"

He is saying that he wants her to stop taking the blame and feeling guilty for the things that she has absolutely no control over (impossible). He's saying that he wants the world to know she's his and have it matter. He's saying he's too much of a coward to admit that he cares, that he's terrified of failure, because a relationship with her, in spite of its roots in dysfunction, would matter.

"God no. I'm just trying to follow your backwards logic."

He brushed it off with some sarcastic and meaningless comment (it was easier to take that route) and smiled slightly to himself when her desk drawer fell apart in her hands.

v.

_'If you're happy then I'm-'_

The fifth lie came in a detached fit of panic.

She was going on a date. The "who" wasn't a particularly important or puzzling detail as House had deduced his PI's interest in Cuddy since his ill timed compliment on her legs. ("_Do you want me to back off?" Lucas asked, sincerely.  
_

_"Would you?__"  
_

_"I hardly even know you." _

_He should have just said yes._)

The "why" was more troubling.

He knocked on her door at 8:30. (If he was interrupting anything, House managed to convince himself that he didn't care.) This time, he couldn't see her through her picture window. This time, when his grip tightened over the handle of his cane, House didn't take that as his cue to leave.

Cuddy answered the door, half ready, a smooth red dress hugging her curves, stumbling in an attempt to put on a pair of stilettos. "House?"

"Don't put out on the first date. He won't respect you."

She sighed, holding onto the door-frame. "House, if this bothers you for... _whatever _reason...You need to tell me."

He hesitated for only half a second before breaking her gaze, letting his eyes settle for looking at the soft necklace resting in the V of the neckline of her dress. (He was almost certain Cuddy didn't notice his trepidation, anyway.) "Doesn't bother me at all. Hope you have fun."

(That lie wasn't any easier than the rest.)

vi.

'_I just...need to know if you and I can work.'_

He was sitting at his piano, playing his own individual and improvised version of Clair de Lune he'd been fooling around with when he heard the distinct sound of knocking coming from his front door.

He was more than surprised to see Cuddy standing on the other side, still wearing the dress from her date earlier in the evening.

"Date go well?"

She laughed lightly. "It was nice. It just...wasn't what I wanted," she answered simply. "Mind if I come in?"

He stepped to the side, unwittingly inhaling a hint of her perfume as she passed by. "Drink?"

"Yes, please."

If asked, House probably wouldn't be able to recall the full details of their conversation throughout the night, sitting on his couch with Cuddy tucked almost neatly into his side. None except for one, with her lips centimeters away from his, her gaze focused and trained on his:

"Is it okay if I stay?"

"...Yeah."

(And, this time, he told her what he really wanted - and the truth.)


End file.
